


ephemera (first loves die hard)

by greenerias (cosmosima)



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: AU, Backstory, Character Study, F/F, Femslash, slight racism against vampires on PB's part, this is not a feel-good fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 08:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmosima/pseuds/greenerias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn asks, "Why don't you get along with PB?"<br/>--<br/>She could say it's a long story. She could say they had a fight. She could tell him everything. Make him hate her like she does (because really, she does. Forgetting is hard when she remembers everything, even the things from back when the world was a wasteland and she could still grow old. Could still die.). <br/>--<br/>"No reason, really," says Marceline. She throws the basketball and watches it swish through the net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ephemera (first loves die hard)

Finn asks, "Why don't you get along with PB?"

\--

She could say it's a long story. She could say they had a fight. She could tell him everything. Make him hate her like she does (because really, she does. Forgetting is hard when you remember everything, even the things from back when the world was a wasteland and she could still grow old. Could still die.).

\--

Marceline likes to be out at night. Flying is always fun, even when the wind is harsh and the days are cold. Even when the red of the sunset seems close enough to taste; even when she's out of her mind and inexplicably can't stop thinking about  _what-ifs_ and  _could-have-beens._

The Candy Kingdom is chock-full of sweet (ha-ha) people and their princess is even more so. Looking sixteen forever and not aging tends to effect people in different ways. 

She peeks through Bonnie's window and drifts in slowly, axe bass slung around her neck, hair tied limply at her back. Bonnie, ever the scatterbrain, has left her projects out again. The liquids fizzle and bubble in their little glass containers, looking decidedly mad scientist-y. Bonnie'd better watch out or Cinnamon Bun's going to wander in, looking for a snack, and turn himself into a rainicorn or something. It's impossible to tell what the formulas and potions are for with Bonnie's awful scribbly handwriting.

(And Marceline's never been one for reading anyway, so why bother trying?)

Marceline plays some slow, melancholic tunes on her bass. She's thinking of writing a song for Bonnie's birthday, but she can't settle on a beat. Bonnie likes classical, refined music, but Marceline is all rough edges and blurry lines. Classical is a bit out of the question in itself, being boring and designated to please old geezers.

"Oh, Marceline!" Bonnie looks pleased as punch to see her. She walks in through the door (wearing glasses, Marceline notes with interest) and throws her arms around the vampire like she doesn't care who sees. Well, she is the princess. It's not like they can fire her.

"You're wearing that old striped shirt again," Bonnie says, eyeing Marceline's clothing a little disapprovingly. "I  _told_ you that the blue one I gave you would look nicer." 

Marceline frowns. It's true that the blue shirt is cool (it's got a black whywolf howling at a yellow cheese-like moon, and who doesn't love whywolves?), but the striped one has always been her favorite. And new clothes make her feel pretentious.

But if it's Bonnie, it's okay, she thinks. She smiles and says, "I wore it yesterday and didn't feel like washing it. And  _you're_ the one wearung my old band t-shirt, Bonners." She gives the other girl a little peck on the cheek, smiling at the little pout on her face.

"I wear it all the time," says Bonnie. "And it's cute, so it doesn't count." She nuzzles Marceline's cheek, stopping to place a tiny kiss by her ear. "Stay?"

"Your birthday's tomorrow, princess," Marceline reminds her. "Big bad vampire queens have preparations to make, remember."

"Oh." Her face falls a tiny bit. 

Marceline's seen this expression before. It's the  _I-forgot-about-your-species_ expression. Bonnie puts it on whenever the word 'vampire' comes up. 

It's got negative connotations. But it's a lot better than being called a monster.

Marceline pecks her on the cheek and floats off to go find inspiration for a song whose lyrics won't come.

\--

The sky is infinite. Marceline feels like a little kid again when she looks at the endless arch that can't be described with just the word 'blue'. It's like calling the universe 'big' or her dad 'mean'. It doesn't express all of the things it needs to. The word is too small for something so neverending.

Marceline remembers way back when she could still feel the sun on her face, when she was a little girl who wanted anything  _but_ to grow up (oh, how the times have changed). No matter how much she clings to the past and the memories, no matter how much she holds them as some sort of ideal, time won't reverse. The world won't rewind to be in her favor. 

She remembers sitting under this same sky. In this war-torn land wracked with misery and despair. She remembers a time before the bite, when she'd laugh at Simon's jokes and his elaborately-woven histories of their world. She thought they were ridiculous. The world, covered in humans? Malls, televison, eating candy, food stores? The notions still seemed ridiculous to her.

Sure, it was inevitable that things would change. Bonnie'd grow old; someday, she'd die. Marceline remembers so many faces. So many names. All gone, lost to the endless stream of time. People weren't easy to forget when you were an undying creature that had nothing but time on your hands.

Nothing but time, but it always seemed to run out too quickly.

\--

Songwriting has never been particularly easy for Marceline. She'll maybe write down a few notes, stick a pencil behind her ear as she reviews them. It's inevitable that she'll think they're absolute garbage. 

Maybe pajamas will make her feel better. It's unlikely, but then again, so is her finishing the song. What the hell, right?

She roots around in her closet for a bit, and the blue shirt that Bonnie gave her falls out. It's still folded in the meticulous way Bonnie has. Marceline shakes it out. It's completely unworn, despite what she might have claimed earlier.

She decides to wear it to Bonnie's birthday bash, because it'll make her happy.

Making Bonnie happy is really one of the only things that matters to her, and she  _will_ get this song done if it kills her.

She smiles and picks up her pencil again.

\--

“How do you get inspired to write songs?” Marceline’s head is in Bonnie’s lap, and the other girl is stroking her hair, getting out all the nasty snarls and tangles that like to make their home there.

“I don’t know,” says Marceline truthfully. Then she smirks. “Sometimes I think about you.

Bonnie blushes. “I wish I could return the sentiment, but it’s not exactly romantic to say that I think of you while writing math formulas.”

“I dunno, Bonners,” says Marceline. She makes her voice low and sultry. “What’s the formula _for?”_

She licks her lips and Bonnie swats her upside the head.

“Really, though,” Marceline says, after a pause. “A lot of the songs I write are for you.” Most of those ones don’t ever see the light of day. It’s incredibly embarrassing to sing for other people, even after all these years. Marceline doesn’t even remember singing for Simon, ever.

Bonnie is quiet, and after a while, Marceline stops thinking so much. Neither of them says anything, even when Marceline leaves (like she always does). She presses a kiss to Bonnie’s temple and doesn’t make any promises to return tomorrow, but they both know she will.

\--

"Surprise!" The citizens of the Candy Kingdom are all here, all here for their one special person. Bonnie's beaming; she smiles, radiant.

Marceline wishes the sun had shown itself today. But it's raining outside, pouring rain that drips its way down the windows in the melancholy way that rain does.

(Bonnie is bright enough to replace the sun anyway.)

“Marceline!” cries the princess. “You wrote me a song? You didn’t have to, I-”

“It’s your birthday, Bonnie. You deserve something nice.” Marceline drifts closer and pokes her in the belly. “Besides, I thought I’d give back to my muse for once.” She smiles as Bonnie blushes and giggles, placing a little kiss on her cheek. It’s a thank-you in itself. Marceline feels the color rising on her cheeks.

“Wanna hear it, princess?” Marceline smirks, teasingly brushing a stray curl back from Bonnie’s face.

“Yes, definitely- oh,” Bonnie’s tone shifts to a slightly shameful one. “I promised Lemongrab I’d go talk to him, and- well, I’m sorry, but this is…” her voice trails off.

“Important, right?” Marceline’s voice is soft. “It’s okay. I’ll still be here when you get back- it’s not like I’m going to get any older.” She ushers Bonnie out the door before the other girl can pull her face or protest again.

“Later, okay?” Bonnie smiles reassuringly at her.

“Yeah,” Marceline has a strange feeling of foreboding, but she makes herself smile too. “Yeah, later.” She’s not reassured.

\--

“D’you remember,” starts Marceline, “when I told you about Simon?”

It’s late and Bonnie has places to be, things to do. She’s wearing the shirt Marceline just gave her not ten minutes ago. But Bonnie’s always made time for her, always cleared out her busy schedule.

“Yeah,” says Bonnie. “I still can’t believe he raised you.”

“Mmmm. The crown sure made him crazy, didn’t it?” She strums her bass a little, playing a slow little tune from when Simon used to sing to her. He’d said it was one from when back when the world wasn’t a wasteland. From back when vampires were fairytales and it was impossible for a girl to be made out of bubblegum.

“Hey Marceline?” Bonnie looks up at her expectantly. “Sing me something?”

Marceline leans back. She starts to play, and out of her mouth comes a love song.

\--

It’s an hour before Bonnie comes back. Then it’s time for cake and singing. Bonnie blows out sixteen candles- it’s always been sixteen, for about three years now (before it was fifteen- and presumably wishes for another prosperous year in the kingdom full of sweets.

When Marceline does catch her alone, finally, they’re both outside. It’s still raining, so they’re sharing an umbrella. Marceline opens her mouth, ready to sing, when-

“Marceline.” The princess’s voice is cold and frigid. This does not bode well, but Marceline stays cheery and asks her,

“What’s up, Bon?”

Bonnie mumbles something under her breath.

“What?” Marceline raises an eyebrow. Confused. She makes herself stop being nervous. It can’t be anything bad; it’s Bonnie’s _birthday._ Today is a day full of sugar and flowers and candy and niceness.

“I said, I can’t do this anymore.” Bonnie’s pointedly Not Looking at Marceline. Like she’s disappointed. Like she’s ashamed.

“What do you mean?” Marceline’s voice cracks.

“I mean _this.”_ She gestures to the two of them. “ _Us._ This relationship.”

Marceline doesn’t say anything.

“Look,” says Bonnie. “First loves- they don’t last forever. And you- I don’t know if you _can_ love, anyway.” She eyes Marceline with distaste.

Marceline _can’t_ say anything, now.

Bonnie goes on. “You- you’re not _natural_. You don’t eat, don’t need to sleep.” She takes a breath. “We’re all born to die. It’s in our nature. Us people, we die. You… you don’t.”

“Oh,” says Marceline. “I get it.”

“It’s nothing against you.” Bonnie still isn’t looking at her. “It’s just that I- I’m a princess. And you- you’re-”

“A monster,” Marceline finishes. “No, I get it. This- it would have ended sooner or later anyway.” She’s holding back tears now.

She brushes back Bonnie’s pink hair. “I love you,” she says. She plants a tiny kiss below Bonnie’s eye. It’s a goodbye in and of itself.

She tightens her grip on her bass and tries not to think about the way Bonnie’s face stays emotionless as she flies away, brushing the tears from her eyes.

\--

Marceline has never liked rain. It rained when her mom died- that’s all she remembers of her. Rain. A voice like bells. A needle and thread, stitching together a stuffed animal for a tiny baby girl growing up in a world that was like hell.

It had to rain today. Somehow, Marceline feels like the rain itself was what made this day so awful. But it’s not true, because rain doesn’t have anything against her. Against anyone.

\--

Bonnie gives her a letter with the shirt. It’s pink and folded in on itself about a million times. Marceline finds it right when she goes to put the shirt in her closet- the letter is tucked into the collar.

_Marceline,_ it reads. _Marceline, I…_

\--

_Marceline,_

_Marceline, I realize you’ll think this is super cheesy. Stop laughing, I know you are!! But I want to say it anyway._

_Do you remember when we met? I do. It’s like my life began that day, like that day was when things really started to matter. (Again, I warned you this’d be cheesy. Hang on a bit.)_

_It feels like a foreign concept to me sometimes that I’ll grow old (albeit slowly) and die, but that you won’t have to. It’s not strange, though, or unnatural; it’s part of what makes you beautiful. And you are. Beautiful, I mean. You are so beautiful. I don’t get tired of looking at you. You’re so… alive, even though you tell me all the time that you’re not._

_In some ways, I think you’re as alive as I am- even more so in others. You sing and tell stories and make inappropriate jokes, and you’re like… a sun. You’re my sun, even though you can’t face it._

_No matter what happens, I want you to remember that I love you now. No matter what changes, even if I stop, I want you to remember that I loved you. That you can be loved; because you deserve it._

_I love you, Marceline. I love you and I want to always love you._

_-Bonnie_

_(PS- Congrats on making it to the end of this letter. You’re a lot more romantic and sentimental than you let on, aren’t you?)_

\--

“I did, you know,” says Bonnie. It’s the first thing she’s said to Marceline in over two years, despite noticing her lurking outside the castle window, day after day. “Love you. It was Lemongrab who made me break it off.”

Marceline says nothing.

Bonnie sighs, exasperated. “I- you were just a distraction, that’s all.”

“Mmmm,” says Marceline, looking at her axe bass. “I was a problem. I was dead weight and you got rid of me. I understand.”

Bonnie looks crestfallen. “Marceline, that’s not-”

“I hate you, you know,” Marceline’s tone doesn’t change. She’s detached, unemotional. It’s been long enough; she’s sick of not speaking.

“I know,” sighs Bonnie. “I know.”

They both stare at the black night sky until Marceline leaves like always.

\--

It’s funny. After that, Marceline doesn’t feel the urge to go back anymore. She’s just- done. With everything. All the politics, all the lies.

She thinks that maybe this is what closure is.

\--

Marceline is a drifter at heart. Both Bonnie and she herself knew that. For her to stay in one place, with one person, for so long- well, it’s unprecedented. Unexpected, too.

What a world it is. Where a girl made of bubblegum can’t love a vampire without it ending in tragedy. Marceline wonders if this would’ve happened in the world that Simon’s told her stories about. If their story would have ended in a world that wasn’t confusing and nonsensical.

Regretting things is pointless. What-iffing is pointless, and it always will be. The way that it ended won’t change. It won’t magically become okay, and Marceline knows that.

She can’t seem to let go of her hate- of that feeling of betrayal, resentment. She can’t let go because she’d choked on words that she should’ve said. She never was good at telling the truth. It was always so much easier to hide behind facades and lies, and she justified herself by saying, _well, I can, so why shouldn’t I?_

 It’s a flawed principle. It’s skewed, and Marceline knows this, but she can’t bring herself to change.

( _“You’re beautiful,”_ she remembers.)

\--

 “You know, Marceline,” says Bonnie. “You’re pretty.” She’s twiddling her thumbs. There’s a blush on her cheeks. Marceline doesn’t know for sure what’s coming, but she thinks she has a pretty good idea.

“So are you,” Marceline shrugs. “Why this all of a sudden?” She strums a tune on her axe bass, humming lightly to herself as she leans back in the air.

“It’s nothing, really,” says Bonnie. She leans in close and presses her lips to meet Marceline’s.

The kiss is slow and gentle. It’s sweet and innocent, too. Marceline had forgotten that kissing was this nice. She hasn’t kissed anyone in who knows how many years, to be honest.

Bonnie pulls back slowly. There’s a wet popping sound, and the pink girl giggles nervously.

“Well,” says Marceline, smirking, “I wouldn’t call that _nothing,_ Bonners.”

\--

The Candy Kingdom is a pretty place. Marceline doesn’t think she’s ever even used the word pretty before. It’s completely foreign and doesn’t feel quite right, even in her head.

There are buildings and houses, restaurants and benches, all in vivid multicolored candy. The high point of the kingdom, though, is definitely the castle. It looks to be made from cookies and it’s got roughly a billion guard standing on the outside. There’s only one window.

Marceline flies toward it. Maybe she can scare some candy people- there’s no challenge in it, but it’s always fun. They all make different faces and they all have different screams. But one thing’s for sure- it’s a heck of a lot better than just sitting around doing nothing all day long.

There’s a girl sticking her head out the window. She doesn’t look like she’s much older than seven years, but this is the Candy Kingdom. Anything can happen. Hell, she could be queen, for all Marceline knows.

“Who are you?” asks the pink-skinned girl. She’s bouncy and cheery looking, happy. Marceline envies her- she doesn’t think that she was like that. Maybe with Simon she was a bit happier, but she’s always been pessimistic.

“I’m Marceline. The Vampire Queen. Who’re you?” She smiles, showing off her fangs. Maybe the tiny pink girl’ll think it’s cool.

The little girl’s face lights up. “I’m Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum, but you can call me Bonnie! Can we be friends?”

“Sure,” agrees Marceline. She shrugs. “Why not?”

\--

“No reason, really,” says Marceline. She throws the basketball and watches it swish through the net.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I watched 'What Was Missing' again. This was born as a result of that. I wanted to do a Marceline-centric thing revolving around the idea of 'well, she remembers way back when Ice King was Simon, so maybe she was pretending to forget about the fight'. Yeah, it's AU, obviously.  
> I listened to 'Born to Die' by Lana Del Rey on repeat while writing this, and a couple of the lines reflect this. It's like my Marceline/PB jam.   
> (ps you can find me on tumblr as flowerpotmage if you have questions)


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